My heaven, your hell
by The silent writer99
Summary: The death of Christophe has left Gregory in a state, and down in hell Damien is working a plan. Slight Gregstophe and Damstophe. There is a death of two characters, attempted suicide and all that. This is my first story.
1. Welcome to my Hell

_Only those fortunate enough may land within the Son of Satan's arm._

Tears spilled from the blonde's eyes and ran down his pale cheek, ending their journey at his partners tanned skin beneath him. A shaky hand left the others chest to his hair as an equally shaky voice spoke, with fear and pain stitched into every word, "Damn it, Christophe...Do not leave me for good." It was far from normal for the Brit to show any sign of sadness. But this? This was far different from any other time. Christophe: his lover, his partner, his life was gone within a matter or seconds after just shouting at him. Shock to sadness.  
It was a simple 'take down' mission of a company. They were certainly not ready for a secret ambush which ended up in the death of Christophe DeLorne.  
But, instead of a cursing French and a laughing Brit walking hand in hand home, there was two men on the floor. A silent French in the sobbing blonde's arms. Blood everywhere. The smell of death and blood clung onto them. Christophe lay in the Gregory's arms with a hole through his stomach with blood still oozing through the bullet hole and blood on both of their cheeks.

Coldness. That's all he felt.

Christophe had gone down to hell, as many people thought as soon as they caught the slightest look of him. He got chucked down into the dark death, where only a few lucky souls may arise; only lucky ones. Only I, Damien, can choose such thing. If I want them to stay I keep them in the darkness forever until they die in their afterlife, or go and meet that goody-two-shoes God up there. I wanted Christophe to stay. I knew he would not be accepted in God's arms after all he had done, so I wanted him for my own as soon as I saw him descend to my heaven.  
Gregory continued to mourn over the cold, lifeless body of Christophe while his soul landed right into my open arms. He woke quickly and with a sharp gasp and his eyes wide with shock,  
"Ze 'hell?" He croaked as I chuckled darkly.  
"Yes, welcome to hell."

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**Hi there, thanks for reading so far and this is my first story that I am going to try and complete but if there is any complaints or ideas please do tell.**


	2. Cry away the pain

_Their hell is always my heaven._

" 'Ell?" His voice was gruff as he got out of my arms with caution and took a few steps back to look around my home; it would soon be mine anyway. All I needed was my father to drop dead or myself to get a lover. That is now what I wanted the brunette for fully, I also wanted him to be my own because I love him. From the moment I saw his glare reach me back on the surface he stuck with me for a good long time before I began to watch him. Not stalk - watch.  
He turned to face me with a face stuck with fear. Moving to me at a fast walking pace he reached up and gripped my shirt, pulling me to his height to see eye to eye while I had a small smirk upon my lips, "Where ees 'e? Where ees mon Gregoree?!" My heart sunk. It was rare to see and hear such fear and desperation come from the brunette. I moved my left hand to his hair and ran it through his dirty locks but got no reaction from him as I spoke in a soft voice as if a kind person was telling someone their parents died, "Christophe, you died...Gregory did not." That was all I needed to say for him to punch me across the face.  
"Non! Menteur!" He stuck me across the face once more, the third punch is the one I caught as I looked at him. I saw disbelief, hatred and hopelessness within his eyes. Moving a hand to his cheek I rubbed my thumb over his cheek and sighed before holding him close, which is when Christophe DeLorne cried.

Gregory had carried the long gone body of the French to hospital in his arms, as he limped. Tears flowing down his cheeks. A dead body within his arms. A kick open the doors. Deep and heavy breaths escaped. He then collapsed to his knees. Helplessness filled him as the doctors came, surrounding the two with worry painted across their face, all knowing the result and all just thinking of how to tell the blonde.  
Seeing his brunette bring taken away from him was the hardest part of it all.  
He was soon helped up to his feet with a blanket wrapped around him as he was taken to a room to be treated, following like a mindless zombie. 30 long and tense minutes it took for the doctor to walk up to the blonde. Slow and unwanted steps taken to the blonde as all eyes were on the floor, not wanting to look up to the truth. With the clipboard held tightly, the doctor sat next to him with a soft sigh and a concerned look in his eyes before speaking softly and slowly,

"There's nothing we can do for him..."

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Translations:

Menteur: Liar.


	3. The start

_It is only the afterlife. You have yet to die._

He soon woke after crying himself to sleep in my arms. I have to say he was rather peaceful in his sleep, which you would not think straight away when you first see him. When he opened his eyes slowly he looked right up at me with the normal morning glare as a grin crept onto my lips, I spoke softly with my hand moving to his hair ,"Do not give me that look." His glare faded away slowly before his gaze sharply looked away with a now saddened look. No one knew why he always woke with a glare, and no one dared to ask. A sigh escaped his lips as he sat up and continued to look away with my hand back on my lap, "I mees 'im..." My expression softened suddenly as I sighed, I was not going to have him moping around but i was not going to let the two get closer either. Maybe I could lead him on? And then break it? Yes! So my plan begun. "I can send you up to see him."

After hours of weeping and wailing over the new death he had made it home, left his shoes at the door and began to undress himself from his jacket as he made his way up the stairs and let it hang over the chair in an untidy mannar which stood out like a sore thumb within the house. Entering his room, he picked up the old shovel he had once despised but now gives him much comfort, and pulled the covers back before slipping in with the shovel tightly within his grasp. Slowly he fell asleep, the cold metal staring at him during the whole night.  
When he woke his eye landed on the dirty shovel. He did not move from his bed since a feeling of hatred and sadness filled him and took control of his body, making it not want to move but mope throughout the whole day. Christophe's family could have everything of his, but not his shovel. Never his shovel. It was silent until the lips of the blond opened and his throat pushed out,  
"Do not give me that look..."


	4. The Lie and The Truth

Anger flashed in his eyes as he pounced on me once again and stuck me across the face, "Ze fuck deed vous not tell moi before?" I sighed and pushed him off and back onto the flame duvet, I actually despised my duvet.  
"You have just died, Christophe..." My answer did not calm him nor did it anger him, "I do not care, I weesh to see 'im. Now." He was demanding as he crossed his arms over his chest and got up and off the bed, he was obviously eager yet I was not. A sigh escaped my lips as he I nodded, It was all within my fathers room. I led him out of my dark room and led him upstairs, my father was one to actually keep everything clean and if it was not he would clean it until it was. That is why he never liked to step foot in my room.  
Once we reached my father's room I lead him through his bedroom which only had a large double bed from him and his new lover, as we reached the chamber I heard him growl slightly at the sudden brightness, it was pure white with only a few of them tubes. My father never told me what they were but he always told me how it worked. "Lay down and just close your eyes." With finally no problems he did as he was told. It took one human and one demon to work. The human is the one to be tricked and the demon is the tricker, he has to control the whole dream and who he is to portray as. Before I lay beside him and closed my eyes I heard him speak, "Wait just a leetle while Gregoree.." A grin came to my lips as I finally fell asleep with him.

It took the blond another day to finally move from his bed, due to his body refusing to do anything except for moving to the toilet and back, but he spoke no words until he picked up the phone and dialed Christophe's mothers number with dread filling his body. One ring, just put the phone down. Two rings, they will find out soon. Three rings, too late.  
" 'Ello? Gregoree?" A lump caught in his throat but pushed out a simple, "Yes..." Even though his voice felt like sandpaper and still sounded dry that did not stop a screech of happiness from coming down the phone and reaching his ear causing him to bit hard on his lip. How come they get to feel to happy while he sits in sadness and drown in a river of tears? He gulped hard once again and watched the floor, glad that they could not see him. "Zo, vat can I do for vous et Christophe?" Even just his name made him let out a strangled sob that was then heard, "Gregoree? Vat ees eet?" The voice then became concerned,  
"Mrs. DeLorne...It's about Christophe.."


	5. Update!

I know I have not done anything to this for a long time, that's because nothing good was happening to it and so I left it. But, I am thinking of bringing it back, sorting it out and finishing it. What do you guys think?


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